Starbucks
by sithmarauder
Summary: England really, really hates Starbucks. USUK.


**Title: Starbucks  
>Author: sithmarauder<br>Pairing(s): England/America**  
><strong>Disclaimer: Hetalia and all affiliated characters do not (and will never) belong to me.<strong>

This is my experience of an English coffee shop. Yes, I have been to England, though my memories may be a bit foggy, considering it was back in grade… six? Ah, either way, I didn't drink coffee at the time, but I swear to God my mom's an addict, so we spent a lot of time going into various shops when not walking through the ruins of old castles.

-x-

There was something to be said for the quaint solitude and atmosphere of an old English coffee shop. The way the beverages seemed to contain a comforting, home-like flavour, for example, never failed to evoke a relaxed response from the consumer; likely because they felt more at ease, as if they were sitting in their own homes, looking out a window to a large rock garden.

Well, that was what England felt, at least. To him, there was nothing – absolutely _nothing_ – more soothing than sitting down in an old-fashioned coffee shop and sipping some tea or whatever available beverage he felt like having at the time. In a way, it reminded him of times long past, when he had held the world in his palm, and those who opposed him were crushed with a familiar ease. It reminded him of days sitting in the parlour of America's house, laughing with the boy as America showed him yet another creature he had collected, or proudly relayed to him another accomplishment. Finally, it reminded him of the sea – the sea he still loved and longed for, even after all this time. It was odd, he thought, the fact that a simple beverage would remind him of that, but it did nonetheless, and he was happy for the (however temporary) distraction from the everyday chaos that he had come to accept as a part of his new life – no longer a superpower.

The loss of his status as the world's most powerful country had been devastating but, he reflected, it could have been worse. He had known from the beginning that all major countries eventually fell, and he was lucky to get away still in existence. Once, he had gone over to Austria's house, and the pianist had told him the exact same thing, albeit in a more subtle way, as was his wont. England had taken his word for it, of course, for Austria had once been powerful, not through strength of an army, but through cunning and 'manipulation' – treaties formed with other countries, and more marriages than England had ever cared to have at the time. Even then, though, Austria had fallen as well. It had taught England a lesson – it had taught him that, no matter what, it was impossible to be on top forever.

So while he was up there, he had exploited it for all its worth. And in the end, perhaps that was what had led to his evident "fall from grace."

Sighing at the turn his thoughts had taken, England placed his cup on the table in front of him, letting his gaze wander to the other patrons of the shop. There weren't many, something that distressed him, and those who were there were those of an elderly age; those who remembered and had frequented this place from and in their youth. A small smile flickered across the European nation's face as he shook his head. He himself had been coming here for years… sometimes he'd get the occasional stare from those who had known him back when they were young, and sometimes he'd be asked if he had a relative who had come here a lot in a specified past time period. Naturally, the shop owners would know, but they knew enough not to tell anyone.

"Everything all right, sir?" the waitress asked as she moved around the area, a tray tucked under her arm. It was a slow day, and England knew she was likely bored out of her mind.

"Everything is fine, thank you," England said warmly. "As always."

The girl smiled tiredly, nodding her head.

"If there was anything wrong, dear, he likely would have told us," Lauren 'Laurie' Willet, the shop owner, stated, her eyes sparkling. She was a middle-aged woman, maybe in her fifties, with a pleasant face and gentle demeanour. Sometimes she reminded England of Hungary, but he didn't like thinking about that…

Outside, a girl and her mother moved as if to pass by, but at the last second the mother changed her mind, dragging her young daughter into the shop.

"It's just quickly, dear."

The girl sniffed, wrinkling her nose. "This place smells. Why couldn't we go to Starbucks?"

The woman sighed patiently, but she didn't answer. England, for his part, narrowed his eyes a fraction as the girl complained about some other things. He estimated the girl to be around sixteen years of age, and already he wished she'd go away. She whined like an American (or maybe just North American) teenager, and while he supposed it wasn't fair of him to compare this particular girl to one of those Yankees (or _whatever_ they called themselves), he couldn't help it. The mention of Starbucks had made him tense up, bitter thoughts filling his mind as he imagined all the corporations America was shoving forward – to him, Starbucks was getting too popular. It forced places like this – places he had frequented for decades, even centuries in some really old cases – out of business, and…

"Heeey, Britain!"

England winced as America burst into the shop, startling the other patrons (as well as the woman and her daughter) with his astounding volume. "There you are! Jesus, man, you disappeared and you city is so freaking _weird_ and _grey…_"

Biting back the instinctive wince, England sighed, fixing his former colony with a critical glare, which intensified as the other people glanced over. Some of them mouthed 'Britain?' to each other in confusion, and Laurie, who knew about him already, looked torn between amusement and irritation on behalf of England himself.

"_Alfred_," he started, putting emphasis on the man's human name – it wouldn't do to have them going around calling each other by the identities of the nations they represented, after all. "What are you doing here?"

America exhaled, smiling brightly. "I flew in to see you, man! I got a new video game, but you weren't answering your phone, so…"

England felt a stinging pain in his temples as he stood, sending Laurie an apologetic look before he marched over to the younger nation, grabbed his arm, and hauled him out into a nearby alley where no one could hear them.

He wasn't entirely sure what he said, only that it started with "America, you idiot!" and ended with a kiss.

"W-what was that for, you git?" England demanded hotly, crossing his arms as he glanced at the people passing by them, like their opinions mattered to someone who had lived for centuries upon centuries.

(They did.)

America just grinned at him, shoving his hands into the pockets of his bomber jacket. England resisted the urge to roll his eyes for a whole three seconds before turning his attention back to the people on the streets as they hurried on by, before he suddenly found himself being literally dragged by the arm to –

"No."

"C'mon, Arthur! They make great coffee!"

"You great idiot, I said no! I am _not_ going into that soul-sucking hovel of expansionary evil excuse for a bloody coffee shop – "

"Dude, chill. It's just Starbucks." America eyed him warily, but continued dragging him over until they stopped in front of it, where England firmly planted his feet and refused to take one more step. "Arth – "

"I am _not_ going in there," England said stubbornly, shaking his head. "I will not support your bloody expansionism when it means all the traditional shops will go out of business!"

It almost made him feel sick to his stomach, actually – Starbucks had become immediately popular with the youth, slowly replacing the traditional shops in favour of something more modern and "hip" – something that made the older nation shudder. People were more into their lattes with incomprehensible, needlessly long names, preferring them to simple herbals teas and home-made coffee crafted from beans that were hand-ground to suit each customer's needs.

He must have looked off or something, for America's insistent tugging finally stop, and when England's attention returned to the youth he found his former colony looking at him with a rarely-seen thoughtful expression.

"Really means that much to you, huh?" he asked, and when England gave him a curt nod, the younger nation smiled. "All right then," America chirped. "I need my coffee, and you're grumpy, so let's go back to… wherever the heck it was that you were. Before. Y'know."

Five minutes later found them seated back in Laurie's shop, America being his loud and obnoxious self as England sipped quietly from his cup, a faint smile on his face.

Yes, Starbucks' evil empire was still spreading it's nefarious influence across Europe, but as long places like this still existed, England…

Fuck it, he'd still mind, but at least Laurie's would take his mind off of that fact so much.

"Yo, Arthur, you look distracted."

"It's nothing, you git – drink your bloody coffee," England snapped, oblivious to the knowing smirk some of the patrons were sending him. There was something to be said for the quaint solitude and atmosphere of an old English coffee shop, after all, and when England stopped to think of that something, only one word came to his mind.

_Perfect_.

"Arthuuur!"

_Or close enough to, at least.  
><em>


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